


Projection

by ZhoraKys



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A Stitch in Time - Andrew Robinson, First Kiss, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhoraKys/pseuds/ZhoraKys
Summary: A slight re-imagining of Ten and Eight's last interaction prior to Ten's departure from Bamarren.





	Projection

Mila shuffled anxiously in his habitat, unaccustomed as he was to having eyes on him — let alone two pairs. 

The scrape of claws and scales against the dirt built up in the locker-enclosure was quiet, but still enough to cover the gentle hiss of Elim’s breathing. 

He could feel, at once, the shift in the air as Pythas’ eyes settled on him. Afraid to return the gaze, Elim reached out a hand to gingerly stroke at the _regnar’s_ tail. The air was thick with tension, so heavy that Elim feared it might spark at the touch. 

And it did, in another way, as he felt Pythas’ narrow fingers seeking his, tentatively threading themselves into the spaces between. Pythas was cool to the touch, a welcome sensation in the heat and stagnant air of the barracks. 

“Elim.”

The quiet voice came after they’d stood like that for another eternity, one young man waiting for the other to turn, each fearful of what he might see.

Elim shut his eyes, drawing an impression of Mila’s dry, smooth scales onto the surface of his mind. Opening them, he was met with Pythas’ face. There was elegance there, and depth still unexpected after all this time. The eyes gave away nothing, and yet said so much. Elim found himself filled with a twisting mix of intoxication and jealousy. 

“Pythas.” 

It was as much an affirmation as an address. His eyes fell to the other boy’s mouth, noting the way it hung open just a fraction — suggestive, or perhaps he was merely projecting. 

His eyes shut again, almost involuntarily this time. He couldn’t face the wait. He had to sedate himself, remove one sense to strengthen the others. To his side Mila’s incessant shuffling. Ahead, the coolness of Pythas’ fingers on his, the smell of sweat; of hair and sleep. 

Then: something new. Something soft, wet, yielding against his mouth. The realization crept, sluggish, into Elim’s mind. It was Pythas, kissing him. 

He gave, just for a moment. He wouldn’t allow himself to melt into Pythas, not to dissolve into the _want_ that he’d been hiding inside him for two years now. It was far too dangerous, and further, too late. But the moment was frozen in his mind like the last scrape of Mila’s scales against his fingertips. That, he could keep.

When he opened his eyes Pythas was sitting back on the bed, looking up at him curiously. 

So this was where they parted.

Perhaps, one day, to meet again.


End file.
